


I Don't Do Boys

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 06:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11411799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: Fem Gallavich-Mickey flips her off, then looks toward Ian, who is still twisted to look at her, frozen in the sudden realisation that Mickey is hot. Not in the obvious way that Mandy is hot; not the kind of pretty that catches your attention right away, but beneath the dirt on her cheeks, and the short tangled mess of her hair, beneath the fuck you attitude – or maybe that's part of it? - Mickey is hot, and that demands Ian's full attention.





	I Don't Do Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write more girls lately, but I still wanted to write Gallavich. My partner and I have been hesitant to write fem!Gallavich as it doesn't seem to be much of a thing in the fandom. I guess because they're characters with such strong male energies, maybe? I dunno, but I wanted to write them, and I enjoyed it, so you can take it or leave it haha. Also I listened to Strangers by Halsey like 50 times while writing this. It's a very fem Gallavich song.
> 
> Ian's still Ian because, y'know, gender is a social construct and names being gendered is just a matter of interpretation, and I didn't like any feminine variants of the name. And as Mickey's male counterpart said, "Chicks can be called Mickey, right?" Right! 
> 
> Anyway, I love girls, and I love girl loving girls, and even when we get queer representation, it's so rarely queer women (and they so rarely get happy endings), so I can always do with more of that in the world.

Ian watches their teacher pass with a bored stare, barely taking in what he's saying. One of her brows arches when he stops beside Mandy Milkovich, turning the bulge of his crotch towards her, and she exhales sharply through her nose. She's been subject to that unimpressive and unwanted display before, and it makes anger rile in her chest to see him pull the move on another girl. As he finally turns away, Ian catches her bag with the toe of her foot and kicks it in front of him. He trips, falls, hits the ground hard. Ian doesn't glance at him, keeping her eyes ahead, the vaguest hint of a smirk curling at the edge of her thin lips.

Mandy looks first at their fallen teacher, then at Ian. Her eyes dark with eyeliner and wide with surprised delight. She flashes a toothy grin at Ian, and Ian's stomach squirms warm and pleased in response. It's reward enough for the detention slip she gets.

*

Hands come over her eyes, and Ian tenses, a confused smile playing across her face. At first she thinks it's one of her siblings, but then there's warm breath against her ear, and a voice she recognises.

“Hi Ian.”

“Hey Mandy.” Ian turns, her smile warm and genuine now. Her eyes dip automatically, taking in the sight of Mandy in her short skirt and tight hoody.

“You wanna hang out after work?”

“Uh, sure.” Ian feels her cheeks flush in spite of herself. She pushes her bangs away from her face, tucking her short hair behind her ear. She keeps meaning to shave it but never gets around to it.

“Thanks for today. My knight in shining armour.”

“Any time.”

Mandy hugs her, and Ian breathes in her scent, sweet and sharp. Her hair is soft against her cheek, and she hugs her back, holding her close. She doesn't have many friends, fewer female, and she takes the chance to enjoy the closeness of a girl, even if it's platonic.

“I get off at ten,” Ian says.

“Cool.”

After her shift, Mandy walks Ian home. They sit in the Gallagher house, drinking beer and passing a joint between them. Mandy toes off her shoes and puts her tight clad feet against Ian's thigh. Ian's heart rate picks up, and damp warmth pools between her legs. She puts a casual hand on Mandy's ankle, and when Mandy doesn't pull it away, she rubs circles into the bone with her thumb.

Then Mandy starts talking about boys, and the illusion shatters.

“And all they wanna do is fingerbang me. Like, it's so boring. I wish there were boyfriend material guys round here, y'know?”

“Yeah,” Ian says, hollow. She does not know. She has never had an interest in boys, for fingerbanging or anything else.

“Hey, how come I've never seen you around with a boy?”

“Like you said, guys round here ain't up to much.” Ian shrugs. She takes another drink to prevent her from rambling more, hoping Mandy doesn't notice the shake of her hand. Mandy giggles and presses her forehead to Ian's cheek. Her breath is warm and damp against Ian's throat. Her pulse jumps beneath Mandy's exhale.

“You're funny, Ian Gallagher.”

“Yeah.” Ian smiles, even as her chest aches.

*

It's okay, though. Mandy is funny, and has a tongue sharp enough to cut glass. She can out swear most of the boys in their year, comes up with some truly inventive threats, and is secretly sweet beneath her hard exterior. Ian's crush fades into admiration and true affection. Yeah, she'd still like to bury herself between Mandy's thighs, but being her best friend is a privilege of its own, and Ian does not take it for granted.

“You wanna do your homework at mine tonight? Then we can play video games or somethin' after.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Cool. My brothers are goin' out with my dad, so the house will be quiet.”

“You've seen my house. Noise doesn't really bother me.”

“Yeah, but my brother's might ogle you, then I'd have to kick their asses.”

“I could kick their asses myself, y'know?”

“Yeah, but they're my brothers, so then I'd have to kick _your_ ass. Family loyalty and all that. But I'm allowed to kick their asses.”

“Ahh, I see.” Ian nods, like this makes perfect sense, fighting back a grin. “Point taken.”

Mandy giggles, the sound infectious enough to have Ian laughing, and she links her arm through Ian's as they head towards their next class. Yeah, being Mandy's friend is pretty fuckin' great.

*

“Finally.” Ian heaves a sigh and dramatically flings her maths book across the room. Mandy kicks her thighs.

“Pick that up, asshole. You'll crinkle all the pages.”

“Ugggh.” Ian rolls off the couch and hops to her feet, obediently retrieving her exercise book and storing it in her backpack. They'd been working on maths equations for the last half hour, and she now has a steady tension headache thumping low at the base of her skull. As she's straightening up, the front door slams behind her. Ian glances over shoulder just as Mandy's sister, Mickey, comes trailing through the living room. She belches loudly to announce her arrival.

“S'up douchebags?”

“Ew, gross, assface.”

Mickey flips her off, then looks toward Ian, who is still twisted to look at her, frozen in the sudden realisation that Mickey is _hot_. Not in the obvious way that Mandy is hot; not the kind of pretty that catches your attention right away, but beneath the dirt on her cheeks, and the short tangled mess of her hair, beneath the _fuck you_ attitude – or maybe that's part of it? - Mickey is hot, and that demands Ian's full attention.

“The fuck are you lookin' at?” She snaps, arched eyebrows raised and eyes wide and angry, and blue, so blue. Ian licks her lips automatically, then shakes her head.

“Nothing.” She looks away, feeling heat taint her cheeks, feeling the familiar dizzy rush spin through her head. Fuck. Maybe she just has a thing for Milkovich girls. Thank fuck there's only two of them, if she had to face a house full of those genetics she might spontaneously combust.

“Whatever.” Mickey stomps on to her room.

“You want a pizza bagel?” Mandy asks Ian, and Mickey's head tilts in interest, halfway through her bedroom door.

“You makin' food?”

“I wasn't talkin' to you.”

“But you are makin' food.”

Mandy sighs and rolls her eyes, then looks back towards Ian questioningly. Ian laughs.

“Sure,” she says, gaze daring to flick back to Mickey, amused. There's a smirk on Mickey's face as she stands in the doorway, light pouring from behind her. She looks wild and defiant. Ian has to look away again, before she gives herself away.

*

Mickey re-emerges when the smell of pizza bagels has reached her.

“Shove over, faggots.” She drops beside Ian, elbowing her aside as she shoves a pizza bagel in her mouth. She wipes her fingers on her tank, adding to the many stains. It was white, once. It's a boy's vest, the way it clings around her chest giveaway. She's not wearing a bra, and through the light material Ian can see the bumps of her nipples, half erect. The arm holes are cut large and give a view of her side boob. Ian squeezes her thighs together and averts her eyes, just as Mickey yanks the controller from her hands. Probably for the best. She's in no fit state to concentrate now, and Mandy was already handing her ass to her.

While the Milkovich sisters swear at each other over her head and shoot each other on screen, Ian steals another side glance at Mickey. Ian's always considered herself quite lucky in the boob compartment, in that hers never really developed. For someone who likes to run, jump, climb, and all manner of things to which breasts would only be a hindrance, she's always been quite satisfied with her A cup. Doesn't mean she doesn't like breasts on other girls, though, and Mickey's definitely have her attention. The curve of them, the little bumps of her areola, hinted at through her shirt. Ian swallows the saliva that's building in the back of her mouth and squeezes her thighs harder, biting her lip as she turns her attention back to the screen.

She's pressed between the two girls, their warmth seeping into both her arms. Mandy is familiar and comforting, Mickey is hot and sending tingles over her skin whenever their bare arms brush. She does not smell sweet like Mandy, but musky, smoke and sweat. It's an intoxicating smell that Ian much prefers to the overpowering scent of perfume, and her eyes flutter closed as she inhales through her nose, trying to store the scent away for when she gets home and can put her hand down her pants.

*

Mandy's breath smells sweet like the peach schnapps they're passing back and forth, with a sharp undertone of alcohol. They've already finished a six pack of beer and are now drinking from the bottle as they sit in the Gallagher van, legs tangled beneath the blanket they're sharing.

“So I'm like totally-” Mandy stops to hiccup, then laughs at the sound before continuing. “Done with Rick. He's a dick.”

“Rick the dick,” Ian agrees solemnly. They both snort.

“Hey, I'm always the one sufferin'. We need to get you some dick.”

“No, thanks.”

“C'mon. I could hook you up with someone. We could double date. It'd be fun.”

“Nah.” Ian shakes her head. She takes another quick drink, panicked, and almost chokes on it, coughing around the alcoholic burn.

“Why not?” Mandy pouts. Her eyeliner is smudged and her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looks like she could kick your ass, but still pretty and feminine in a way Ian could never manage. Ian looks at her and feels something in her chest give, some kind of release.

“I'm gay.”

*

“You ever given a blowjob?”

Ian snorted a laugh and looked up at Lip with disbelief. When he stared back, expectant, she eventually shook her head.

“Nah.”

“You'd tell me if you did though, right?”

“What, 'cause it's the kind of situation we could bond over? Or are you gonna get Karen to give me her best tips and tricks?”

“Just that I thought we tell each other everything.”

“We do.”

“Unless you wouldn't tell me 'cause you'd rather eat pussy.”

“What?” Ian's voice faltered. She looked at Lip in stunned silence. He reached down the back of the dresser and pulled up her porn folder, disguised with pictures of men on the outside, but full of women inside. She swallowed thickly, pale and tense under his gaze.

“Did you think I'd care?”

Ian shrugged. Her muscles felt stiff and frozen. Her eyes were wide, watching Lip's face, trying to read any micro-expression that might betray how he was feeling. Lip tossed the folder beside her on the bed.

“You got some good shit in there,” he said, tone light. Ian's shoulders relaxed fractionally. “Hey, guess this just means we got another thing in common.”

Ian laughed, shaky and relieved.

*

“You're sure?” Mandy points the neck of the bottle at her, squinting in scrutiny. Ian nods. “Wow. I wish I could be gay. I mean, some girls are bitches, but most guys are dicks, so bein' a lesbian would probably be the better deal, right? I mean, you're real sweet. I'd totally date you, but, I'm just into cock, y'know?”

Ian huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, Mands. I know. I hear the play by plays.”

Mandy punches her in the arm. She leans away, laughing, feeling light and airy, like a weight has been lifted.

“All this time I've been goin' on about guys and you never fuckin' said.”

“I was... Scared you wouldn't wanna be my friend any more.”

“What? Why?”

“Just... Round here, y'know.” Ian glances away. Mandy punches her again. “Ow! What the fuck, Mandy?”

“You're a fuckin' dumbass, Ian Gallagher. But you're _my_ dumbass, and my best friend, and you ain't getting' away that easy.” Mandy links their arms and lays her head on Ian's shoulder, sighing as she drains the last of the schnapps. “I mean, it's good, 'cause now I know you'll never screw any of my boyfriends. 'Cause if you did, I'd have to fuckin' shank you.”

Ian laughs and presses a kiss to Mandy's hair.

*

The noise of the door as someone enters the shop prompts Ian to look up, and her stomach tenses at the sight of Mickey. She strolls into the store, looking bored and distant as she browses the aisles, picking out Pringles, dip, and an energy drink. She drops it on the counter in front of Ian and looks her over.

“You got a box for these, Annie?”

“Sure.” Ian flashes a smile and pulls an empty stock box from beneath the counter.

“Thanks.” Mickey hands over a ten, and Ian's fingers brush her palm as she hands back her change. Her tongue presses at the corner of her mouth and Ian is captivated. “Later.”

“Bye, Mickey.” Ian's certain the pitch of her voice raises, and she hates herself for it. She groans when the door falls shut again, drooping forward until her head lands against the counter with a thump.

“Was that Mickey Milkovich?” Kash asks, coming through from the back with a box of apples in his arms.

“Yeah,” Ian mumbles, muffled against the counter.

“Did she just... pay?”

“Yeah?” Ian raises her head, brow furrowed in confusion. Kash looks back at her, mirroring that confusion.

“Mickey Milkovich never pays.”

“Huh,” Ian says, pushing her bangs aside. “Well, she did this time.”

She wonders why.

*

“Gotta pee,” Ian says, heaving herself up off the Milkovich sofa and heading for the bathroom.

“Jesus, Gallagher, fuckin' knock first.” Mickey scowls at her from the bed, and Ian starts. She hadn't realised Mickey was home. She's sprawled across the bed, and at first Ian doesn't know what the big deal is, until she catches the movement of Mickey withdrawing her hand from beneath her waistband. Oh.

“Sorry.” Ian flushes, but it's more at the thoughts that image provokes than embarrassment. “Didn't know you were in.”

“Whatever.” Mickey wipes her hand on the sheets then pulls herself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. “You gonna stand there all day?”

“I like your room,” Ian says, for lack of anything else. She's passed through Mickey's room before, stolen glances, but never when she was in it. The room is heavy with her musky scent and, Ian realises, what must be the scent of her wetness. She chews her lip, eyes skimming the walls. They're covered in scribbled drawings, art, and a lot of posters, including a shirtless man framed from thighs to neck.

“I like it better when you ain't fuckin' standin' in it,” Mickey snaps. Ian takes the hint and moves on to the bathroom. Her clit is tingling with the thought that Mickey was masturbating just meters away from her. Her nipples are hard and poking against her tshirt, as she often goes braless. She rubs her forearm over them to get them to soften. After she's finished and washed her hands, she knocks on the bathroom door to let Mickey know she's passing through again.

“Very funny, princess.”

Mickey flips her off when she comes into view. Ian flashes her a cheeky smile, and for a brief second, she gets a smile in return, before Mickey cloaks it again with her scowl.

*

Ian feels the vibration of her feet hitting the ground rattle up through her with every step, and it drives her to pound harder. She breathes in sharp, short pants, sweat beading on her forehead, rolling down the back of her neck. It's getting to the point where her throat feels cold and her lungs are starting to burn, but she just pushes faster. On her last lap of the track now, and she always goes as hard and fast as she can to finish.

As she sprints across the line and shifts to jog, to walk, to halt, each breath is ripped from her. She puts her hands on her knees and leans forward, trying to catch her breath. The front of her tank falls forward, revealing her sports bra. A whistle sounds from under the bleachers, and Ian's head shifts up, eyes narrowed and stance tense and ready.

“Quite a view, Gallagher.” Mickey strolls out from under the bleachers, cigarette between her fingers. She gestures to the gaping neck of Ian's vest.

“Only if you're lookin',” Ian replies, breathy but confident, thrumming with endorphins. She straightens up and pulls at her vest, flapping it to try and cool herself down. Mickey's tongue presses at the corner of her mouth. It's a habit that drives Ian mad, makes her wonder what that tongue is capable of. “What're you doin' here, anyway?”

“Collectin'.”

“Collectin' what?”

“Drug money.” Mickey leans against the bars at the edge of the bleachers and takes a drag of her cigarette. She tips her head up to exhale, and Ian's eyes skim the line of her pale throat. She thought her crush on Mandy was bad, but it was mere butterflies. Mickey gives her fireworks in her stomach. Maybe it's the Ukrainian genes.

“Ah.” Ian crosses to her bag, pulling out a towel and rubbing sweat from her face. “You're here early.”

“Dad's on a rampage. Better to clear out.”

“Right.” Ian chews her lower lip, pushing her sweat damp fringe back from her forehead. Mickey's watching her with casual detachment, and she feels both awkward and thrilled.

“The fuck you doin' runnin' at this time?”

“I like to run.” Ian shrugs. “The track's quiet in the mornings. Get it to myself.”

“That's 'cause sane people are in fuckin' bed.”

“Don't get this body by sleepin' in,” Ian says, tugging her tank up to reveal her stomach, tight and toned, beginning of abs definition starting to show. It's a test to see how Mickey will react, but Ian's not sure if the way her eyes rake over her skin are hungry or envious.

“Whatever. I'd rather have the extra hours sleep.” Mickey flicks away the butt of her cigarette.

“Yeah, well, not like you need it. You already look great.” Ian eyes Mickey's toned arms, visible with her sleeveless hoody. She grins, pleased and slightly feral, and flexes.

“Don't waste my time with bullshit cardio. All weights.”

“Looks good.” Ian smiles. She wants to touch her, to feel the firmness of those muscles beneath her fingers, to trail kisses over them. She wonders if she'd be strong enough to pin Mickey down, or if she'd be able to flip them, press Ian into the mattress. She's wet and sticky between her thighs, a mixture of sweat and her own juices. It takes so little to get her horny after a good exercise session, and with Mickey, well, all she has to do is fuckin' look at her with those eyebrows raised and that smirk curving the corner of her mouth. “I gotta go shower.”

“Don't let me stop you.”

Ian pulls her backpack over one shoulder and moves past Mickey, catching her musky scent beneath the veil of smoke. She swears Mickey's eyes dip down to her ass as she passes, but she doesn't look back to check. The showers are empty this early, which is a blessing. She steps beneath the hot water, tipping her head up and sighing as it washes the sweat away. She washes quickly, but when her palm drags over her nipple, it starts the sensations between her legs again.

“Fuck it,” she mumbles, and presses two fingers to her clit. She moves them in quick circles as the fingers of her other hand toy with her nipples, alternating between the two, rolling them between her fingers and pinching them. Her hips buck slightly as she gets closer, imagining Mickey in the shower with her, pressing her against the wall with those strong arms. That mouth, with that teasing fuckin' tongue, pressing into her mouth, moving over her jaw, mouthing at her throat. Ian makes a sound, high and desperate in the back of her throat. Her hand moves faster; quick, small circles over her clit. Mickey's hand sliding between her legs. Mickey teasing her until she's squirming and soaked. Mickey sucking on her nipples as she slides a finger into her.

“Fuck.” Ian comes hard, her legs shaking with the force of it, her vagina contracting in short bursts. Her knees come together. Her hand leaves her breasts to steady her against the wall. She keeps rubbing her clit until it's so sensitive it hurts, then she stops, breathing hard, flushed from exertion as well as the heat of the shower. She props an arm against the wall and leans her forehead against it until she catches her breath.

She leaves the changing room smirking and satisfied.

*

She broke three bones in Roger Spikey's hand when she was thirteen.

Everyone thinks she did this because he was annoying her, which, to a point, he was. He kept touching her, kept trying to kiss her, told her she was going to be his girlfriend as if that were something she should be grateful for. He didn't listen when Ian told him “no”, told him “piss off”, told him “fuck you”. He put his hands on her one too many times, so she punched him, she kneed him in the dick, the stomach, she pushed him to the ground, and when she had him down, she stomped on the hand he had put on her until she heard bones break, until Roger was crying and screaming.

“Don't ever touch me again,” she said, venom in her voice.

“As your unofficial guardian, it's my obligation to tell you violence is wrong,” Fiona said, after she had been called into the school about the incident. “But as your big sister? That creep had it comin'.”

She high fived Ian, then bought her ice cream on the way home.

Later, she heard a rumour that Spikey was into sucking dick. It made her laugh. Maybe they could have been each other's beards if he hadn't been such an asshole.

*

“Hey, Ian. Saw you running the other morning. You're pretty fast.”

“Yeah.” Ian looks up from her locker. Jason Martin is leaning against the row of lockers beside hers, arms folded across his ribs. With his wavy brown hair, soft brow eyes, and tightly packed muscles, he's one of the better looking boys at her school. She can see girls eyeing them suspiciously as they pass. Ah, if only they knew.

“You ever think about joining the track team?”

“Don't have time.” Ian clicks her locker shut and swings her bag over her shoulder.

“We only meet twice a week.”

“Yeah, and my schedule's already full, between ROTC and work.”

“Shit, I didn't know they let girls into ROTC.”

Ian shoots him a withering glare over her shoulder as she starts to walk away. He jogs until he catches up with her, falling into step at her side.

“But, that's cool. Just. Would be cool to have you on the team, y'know? We don't get a lot of girls.”

“If I were gonna join, I'd want it to be on the merit of my running, not because I have a vagina.”

“Right, and like I said, you're pretty fast. Could probably match our top runners.”

Ian snorts.

“I don't even need to be on the team to know I'd easily outrun your ass,” she says, turning to step into her classroom. Jason blocks the door with his arm. Ian looks at him, one eyebrow arched.

“Prove it,” he says. “We'll race. After school. If I win, you go on a date with me.”

He grins, arrogant and self assured. Ian keeps her smirk in place, if only for show, feeling repulsed by the idea.

“And what do I get if I win?”

“The pleasure of beating me?”

“Don't seem like much of a deal,” she says, folding her arms and staring him down.

“Fine. Twenty dollars.”

“Better.” Ian ducks down and slides under Jason's arm. “See you after school. Hope you're not a sore loser.”

*

Ian's leaning against the bleachers waiting when Jason arrives after school. She grins and steps forward, already changed into shorts and a vest.

“Wasn't sure you'd show,” Jason says, returning her grin.

“And miss the chance to prove you wrong?”

“Don't lie, Gallagher. I know you're just excited for our date.”

Ian rolls her eyes, but doesn't waste further energy on words. She moves into place with Jason, and they count down together, before bursting forward. He starts off fast. She notes that; he's sprinting, exerting a lot of energy to start with. She is slower from the line, preserving herself, but she moves to keep pace with him. Each time she gains on him, he pushes harder. She's not yet running at a pace that is tiring for her, but after the fourth burst forward, she can see he's starting to feel the strain. Ian grins, predatory, as her strategy forms. She keeps close at Jason's heels, driving him forward so he's expending his energy, until he's sweating and breathing hard. She keeps that place, never drawing even or moving to pass him, so while he's pushing himself, he's never in fear of losing his lead.

Then, they take the last turn. The finish line is in front of them. Ian's legs work harder, toes of her feet pounding the track as she springs forward. She full on sprints, passing him easily and taking a decent lead. She's over the line a handful of seconds before he's even near it, turning with a triumphant grin when she finally slows to a halt. Jason's expression sours, but when he finally draws level with her, he smooths it over with a smile.

“Impressive,” he says, bitterness thinly veiled in his tone. Ian can't help but feel even more satisfied. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, and she notices his eyes drawn to the material clinging to her breasts. She clears her throat and holds out a hand.

“That's twenty, then.”

“How about I keep the twenty and we do something together with it.”

“No way. That wasn't the deal, Jason.”

“C'mon, Gallagher. You proved your point. Chicks can run, you're faster than me, blah blah. Just think what we'd be like, with our combined stamina-”

“Ugh.” Ian shakes her head, turning her back on him and moving towards her backpack. She's lifting her bottle of water when his fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her to face him again.

“Don't be such a fuckin' bitch, Ian.”

“Hey.” The word comes as sharp as a crack of thunder, and for the second time this week, Mickey emerges from beneath the bleachers. This time she tosses aside her cigarette and heaves herself over the railings, jumping down onto the last row of bleachers and walking across to stand above Ian. “He givin' you trouble, Ian?”

Even in her current situation, Ian can't help but note her head is almost level with Mickey's crotch. Her eyes trace briefly over the baggy crotch of her sweatpants that give nothing away, before they flick up to her eyes, then back to Jason, narrowed in a glare.

“Nothin' I can't handle,” she says, brisk.

“No trouble.” Jason smiles. His fingers tighten on Ian's wrist. “We were just-”

He gets no further, for Ian punches him in the face with her free hand. He stumbles back, stunned, hand to his cheek. Next, she brings her knee up into his dick, then his stomach. When he's bent over, she pushes him to the ground. Mickey's approving laughter only spurs her on as she kicks him in the ribs.

“If you ever touch me again,” she says, voice low and dangerous, dripping venom. “I'll break your fingers.”

“Jesus, okay,” he says, trying to crawl back from her.

“And I want the twenty dollars you owe me. Now.”

“Give the girl what she wants, Martin.” Mickey hops down to stand at her shoulder, arms folded and eyebrows raised in silent threat. Together, they follow Jason to his bag. He hands Ian a twenty dollar bill. “Think you should double that. For her trouble.”

Jason looks at Mickey like she can't be serious. When he's met by twin hard stares, he fishes out another twenty and shoves it into Ian's hand.

“And you should apologise. Right, Ian?” Mickey looks at her with amusement sparkling in her eyes. Ian smirks, feeling a rush from their combined power, from Mickey's closeness, the warmth of her against her arm, her scent, the fact that she's backing her.

“Sorry,” Jason mumbles, and then swiftly takes his leave. Ian waits until he's out of view before she laughs.

“You know I could have handled him on my own,” she says.

“Yeah, I saw that.” Mickey grins, crooked and wild, eyes dipping down over Ian's frame as she casually looks her over. A move that from Jason made her feel gross, but that from Mickey, makes her tingly and hot all over.

“Here.” Ian holds out one of the twenty bills. Mickey arches a brow, but she's south side, and when someone's givin' you money, you don't question it. She takes it quickly and slips it into the pocket of her sweats. “You still collectin'?”

“It's a process,” she says, pulling out her packet of cigarettes again. She lights up and takes a drag. Ian watches her cheeks hollow around it, the way it makes her cheekbones look more defined. She's so busy watching Mickey, it takes her a moment to notice when she's being offered the cigarette. She takes it tentatively. Her dry lips catch on the ring of saliva Mickey's mouth left. She inhales, holding Mickey's eyes as she does so, then hands it back.

“Thanks,” she says in a cloud of smoke.

“Sure.” Mickey turns away, then glances over her shoulder. “You comin' to see Mandy today?”

“Nah, work.”

“Right.” Then she leaves with no goodbye. Ian watches her go, the sagging ass of her sweatpants doing her no justice. She sighs, pushes a hand back through her sweat damp hair, and collects her bag. She needs to get laid.

*

“So, you've like, never had sex?” Mandy leans over her, her face the picture of shock. Ian screws up her face in response.

“Not like it's rainin' lesbians around her, Mands. Or even bisexuals. Or questioning. I'd take a bicurious girl.”

“Bitch, at the rate your virgin ass is goin', you'd take anything.”

“Shut up.” Ian lifts her head to throw her pillow at Mandy, who simply catches it and swings it back at her, hitting the side of her head. “Oof.”

“You might be a raging lesbian, but I can still kick your ass, Gallagher.”

Ian sighs and flops down again, staring at the ceiling.

“Why don't you try going to a gay bar?” Mandy asks, dropping down on her stomach beside her. “We could get you a fake ID.”

“I dunno.” Ian sighs again. It's not that she's some hopeless romantic. She doesn't need her first time to be roses and candles, but she'd kind of like it to be with someone she likes, not some girl she stumbled home drunk with.

“There's gotta be a girl willing to fuck you somewhere. Maybe your gaydar is just broken.”

“I don't think I have a gaydar,” Ian says.

“So, what kind of girls do you think you'd be into?”

 _Milkovich girls, mostly, so far_ , Ian thinks. She shrugs, awkward from her lying down position.

“Preferably ones who are breathing.”

Mandy hits her with the pillow again.

*

They're on Mandy's bed, the three of them, sitting in a circle. They pass a joint between them. Iggy and Colin are arguing in the living room; loud, voices raised, occasional crashes.

“Dumbasses,” Mandy says, with scorn. Mickey watches the door with a hint of longing in her eyes, like she'd like to be part of that scuffle. Her knee is pressed against Ian's and Ian's having a hard time thinking of anything else. She holds smoke in her lungs. The weed makes her feel hazy and warm, light and heavy at the same time, and very horny. Her hand lands on Mickey's knee without her permission. Mickey looks at it, but doesn't move it. Ian can feel the heat of her skin through her sweatpants.

Something falls with a crash, then they hear Iggy's cry of pain following. Mickey snorts. Mandy giggles. It passes between them, contagious, and then their heads are bowed together. Mandy is holding her arm. She squeezes Mickey's knee and Mandy's thigh. Mickey's forehead presses to her shoulder, her hair tickling Ian's nose, the smell of her so suddenly close and immediate that it makes Ian flood with warmth. Mandy's other hand slaps at Mickey's arm. Mickey holds the joint up in her shaking hand, trying to avoid burning anyone.

They laugh until they are breathless and there are tears in their eyes. Mickey's are glittering and bright blue when she finally raises her head, so close Ian can feel her breath against her lips. The tip of her tongue pokes between her lips, as if to taste Mickey's breath. Mickey's pupils are blown wide, her cheeks flushed. Her tongue pushes at the corner of her mouth and Ian starts to lean forward, until the squeeze of Mandy's hand on her bicep reminds her where she's at. Thankfully, neither Milkovich seems to have noticed her close call.

“Idiots,” Mandy wheezes, flushed and gorgeous. Ian's fingers trail over Mickey's thigh as she withdraws her hand. She feels very wet and sticky when she shifts her leg, chewing her lip as a tingle runs from her clit up through her body.

“Yeah,” Mickey says, her voice hoarse and breathy. It sends another wave of heat through Ian. She says nothing, afraid her voice will fail or betray her.

*

“So you haven't had sex?”

Ian scowled at Lip, shaking her head briefly.

“Opportunity hasn't presented itself,” she snapped.

“Hey, well, you know if you need any advice, or... Tips or anything-”

“From you?” Ian laughed.

“Yeah.”

“Why would I ask you for advice?”

“Well, for starters, I've actually slept with a chick.”

“Yeah, and I'd still be better in bed than you.”

“You're lacking some equipment.”

“Sex isn't all about penetration, Lip, and with that way of thinking, I'm almost certain I'm a better fuck.”

“Well any girl I've been with has been satisfied.”

“How do you know?” Ian raised her brows, challenging. “You can't know, but I have a girl's body. I know where is sensitive, I know where to touch and tease, where to go soft and where to go firm. I know what it feels like when a girl has an orgasm, how she tenses and her muscles quiver-”

“I really don't need to think of my sister like that, thanks.”

Ian flipped him off.

“Maybe I haven't slept with any girls yet, but when I do, I'll be sure they actually come.”

“Whatever, sis. I was just tryna help.”

“Thanks, but.” Ian smirked. “I don't need your help when it comes to this.”

*

When Ian stirs, it's dark outside. She sits up and rubs her eyes, bleary and overheated, her clothes clinging to her sweat damp skin. It takes her a moment to remember where she's at; propped between Mickey and Mandy on the couch. When the munchies had struck, they'd made a full box of pizza rolls and chased Iggy and Colin from the living room so they could watch a movie. Apparently, somewhere in the middle, they'd dozed off. Mandy's head is resting against her shoulder, her breath soft puffs against Ian's cheek. In turn, she'd fallen asleep on Mickey's shoulder, and left a small, dark saliva stain in her wake.

Mickey stirs when she moves, squinting through the dim light of the TV at her. For a moment, they just stare at each other, close enough to feel the heat from each other's bodies.

“The fuck?” Mickey mumbles.

“We fell asleep,” Ian says, shifting her arm which is starting to go numb beneath Mandy. Mandy groans, and Ian speaks to her softly, helping get a very sleepy Mandy up and to bed. Mickey's gone by the time she gets back. She knocks lightly on her door. “Okay if I pee before I go?”

Mickey is sitting on her bed rubbing her palms against her eyes. She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand, telling Ian to go ahead. She finds herself soaked with her juices when she goes to pee, and sighs as she pats herself dry. She finds some mouthwash to rinse the taste of sleep from her dry mouth, then staggers sleepily back into Mickey's room.

Mickey's turned so her back is mostly to Ian, but she can still see the side of her breast as she unhooks her bra. Her shirt is already on the floor. Ian watches, jaw slightly slack, as the bra falls away and Mickey hums with satisfaction. She rubs at the red bra lines pressed to her skin, turning to grab another shirt. Which is when she catches Ian, frozen in the act of watching her. Mickey pauses. Ian's eyes move from her breasts, to her face. Mickey stares back at her. The room feels too hot; the air thick and heavy, and electric, static making the hairs on Ian's arms stand on end.

Mickey steps forward first, but Ian's moving in the next moment. Her hands come up automatically, her thumbs stroking over both of Mickey's nipples. Mickey moans, soft, arches her chest against Ian's touch. Ian's mouth feels even dryer than before. She's light headed, and her groin is throbbing. She watches Mickey's expression with parted lips. Mickey's eyes are hooded, her pupils blown, tongue toying at the corner of her lips. Ian moves forward. Mickey is quicker, catching her jaw and pressing fingers into her cheek hard enough to leave white indents. Ian makes a surprised sound of pain.

“Kiss me and I'll cut your fuckin' tongue out,” Mickey hisses. Ian's heart stutters hard in her chest. Her hands hesitate on Mickey's breasts, but then Mickey is reaching for her shirt, and the insistent throbbing of her cunt drives her on.

She lifts her arms, and Mickey drags her t-shirt off and tosses it aside. Her eyes trail down over Ian's bare chest, and her stare feels like a physical touch, leaving heat in its wake. Her hands start at Ian's stomach, trailing over her skin, palms moving along her ribs, and then her index and middle fingers are on either side of Ian's nipples, lightly ghosting over them. Ian exhales shakily, pinching Mickey's left nipple. She hisses and jerks, but bites her lips and strokes firmer at Ian's nipples in return.

Ian curls an arm around Mickey, hand on her lower back holding her in place as Ian ducks down and presses her mouth to her chest. She presses feather light kisses along the soft skin of her breast, starting at the top of the swell and moving down to the nipple. At first her lips barely brush over it, but then she parts them, pushes her tongue hot and firm against it. One of Mickey's hands abandons her chest to come to her hair, fingers tangling and holding tight as she presses her chest against her mouth. Ian licks again, with growing confidence, until she's drumming her tongue repeatedly over the nipple. She catches it between her teeth, light, holds it in place as she teases the tip with her tongue. Mickey pulls on her hair, hard and rough, pulling her back so she can yank her own sweatpants down.

Ian fumbles with her belt, getting it open so she can undo her jeans and peel them away. One foot gets stuck, and she stumbles back, having to catch her balance against the bed. Mickey watches her with the vaguest hint of amusement, but mostly just hunger, pure and raw. It gives Ian the confidence to push her back onto the bed. To her surprise, Mickey goes without a fight, shuffling up the bed and parting her legs. Ian can smell her clearly now, strong and musky. If she were not already wet, she's sure that smell alone would be enough to get her there. She climbs onto the bed and kneels between Mickey's spread legs, trailing a thumb lightly over her clit. Mickey twitches. Ian dips her thumb into her wetness, then brings it back to her clit; uses her juices as lube as she draws light, teasing circles around the bundle of nerves. Mickey pants, open mouthed, and her head falls back.

Ian kisses at her neck; hot, lips parted, flicking her tongue against Mickey's pulse point. Mickey whines and shifts her hips. Ian keeps her thumb circling her clit as her fingers tease over Mickey's entrance. She lifts her hips, prompting, but Ian doesn't deliver. Not yet. She nips at Mickey's collarbone, then nibbles down to her breast. As she takes the other nipple in her mouth this time, she pushes a finger in.

Mickey is wet and so hot, so slick that Ian's finger slides in easily. She presses deep, deeper than she could ever finger herself, the angle better. Mickey breathes in heavy pants, her eyelashes fluttering. Ian watches her, feeling flushed all over with arousal. It's not long before she's adding another finger, feeling tighter on this one, but still slick enough that it goes easily. She presses up and curls them towards her, drawing a low moan from the back of Mickey's throat. Smirking, Ian bites lightly at her nipple.

She draws back so she can watch what she's doing. There's a slick noise every time she presses her fingers back into Mickey, and the smell wafts up to her, stronger now. She builds up speed until she's fucking her two fingers swift and hard into Mickey, whose head has fallen back against the pillow, and whose hips are rolling down against her. Ian's nipples are hard, and her thighs are sticky with her own juices. She's in a kind of dazed sense of disbelief that this is happening, but she's going to make the best of it. Moving away from Mickey's breasts, she shifts back so she can lean down.

“What are you doin'?” Mickey asks, pressing up on her elbows, alarmed.

“Wanna taste you,” Ian says. Her voice comes out hoarse and low. Mickey flicks her thumb over her lower lip twice before she gives a brief nod of approval. A second later, Ian is upon her, sweeping down and dragging her tongue firm against Mickey's clit. Mickey's thighs twitch, and Ian goes lighter next time, tracing the shape of Mickey's lips with the tip of her tongue. Her fingers are still inside her, but held still now as she explores with her tongue. She laps at her clit again, lighter this time, then draws her fingers out slightly so she can lick the juices from them. She moans softly at the taste of Mickey, starting to slowly fuck her with her fingers again as she laps around her clit.

When Mickey's breathing starts to get faster, Ian picks up the speed of her fingers. She uses her other hand to push back Mickey's clitoral hood, and focuses her tongue in fast, flat licks directly over her clit. Mickey's thighs shake. She pants, hard and fast, clenching around Ian's fingers, moaning long and probably too loud as she comes apart. Ian licks her through it, curving her fingers and pressing against her G spot.

She keeps lapping at Mickey's clit as she comes down from her orgasm, breathless, shaking slightly. It's only when Mickey jerks away from the sensitivity that Ian pulls away. Her lower face is soaked with Mickey's juices, from along her upper lip, to all over her chin. She's never felt so horny in her life.

“Good?” she asks, voice quiet, like if she speaks too loud she might shatter the moment. Mickey's breasts shake with each of her deep breaths. Instead of answering, she grabs Ian and flips her onto her back. Ian hits the mattress, and Mickey presses her weight down over her, her fingers biting into Ian's upper arms. Ian never thought being pinned down would be something particularly arousing, but it sends jolts of electric straight to her cunt. Her lips part, and she exhales in a rush as Mickey moves down her body.

She is rougher than Ian. She tweaks one of her nipples sharply, nipping at the other with her teeth. Ian's body jerks beneath her, but she stays quiet, not wanting her to stop. Mickey's thumb is much more insistent when it presses against her clit, rubbing hard circles. She doesn't bother with one finger, going straight to two, and pressing them deep into Ian. Her eyes shut and she exhales sharply through her nose. She's never had anything other than her own fingers inside her, and Mickey's feel so much better. Shorter, but thicker, making her feel so much fuller. Mickey gives a few slow, experimental thrusts, but then she's fucking Ian hard and fast with them, her thumb moving back and forth over her clit. She uses her free hand to toy with one of Ian's nipples, licking at the other. Already insanely turned on from going down on Mickey, it doesn't take long for the sensations to send Ian over. She bites her lip to muffle the sound of her moan as she shakes around Mickey's fingers, feeling even more full as she tightens around them. Mickey pulls them out once she's done and cleans Ian's juices on the bed sheets.

“That was... Wow,” Ian says, feeling dazed and spent.

“It was alright,” Mickey says, casual, detached. She digs out a clean pair of briefs from her drawer and pulls them on, then an old, faded Iron Maiden shirt to sleep in. Ian sits up on the bed, feeling shaky all over. “You can fuck off now.”

“Oh.” Ian's soft smile drops. She doesn't know what she was expecting; but that wasn't really it. “Right. Yeah.”

She gets dressed, and turns to Mickey before she leaves. She wants to kiss her, but the warning look Mickey gives her says enough.

“See you around, then.”

“Whatever,” Mickey says.

Ian leaves the room on weak legs that feel like jelly, the taste of Mickey still strong in her mouth. She takes a moment to lean against the closed door. Then she smiles into the darkness. With an orgasm like that, she's sure Mickey's gonna wanna go for another round soon. The promise of that is enough. For now.


End file.
